


it's beautiful

by rileyhart



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Enjoy!, F/M, a little fluffy thing i wrote aaaggggeesss ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileyhart/pseuds/rileyhart
Summary: “You are you, and I am I. You do your thing, and I do my thing, and if we end up together, it’s beautiful.”





	it's beautiful

“Farkle?” Riley called.

“Yes?” Came a muffled voice from below her. Farkle was giving Riley a boost, so she could search the high shelf in her parents wardrobe.

“Lift me higher, I can’t reach!” Riley said, stretching for a box above her.

“I.. can’t!” Farkle grunted—putting more effort into keeping his face away from Riley’s legs by straining his neck as far back as he could; the edge of her dress brushing his hair—than actually lifting her higher.

“Farkle?” she looked down at him, “Farkle, are you looking up my dress?!”

Farkle went bright red and promptly dropped her. It didn’t help that Riley practically landed on him, her dress draped over his head.

He quickly threw the dress off and stood up; his ears so red they felt like they were on fire, “I-I wasn’t looking up your, uh, dress, I swear. You were just, like, um, right above me and I was trying not to press my face against your, uh, y’know, um…” he said quickly, trailing off at the end.

“My legs?” Riley prompted, raising her eyebrows as she stood up, brushing her dress down.

“Yeah,” Farkle said awkwardly.

Riley rolled her eyes, “Just give me a boost, so I can get the box, Farkle.” She said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice.

“What if I accidentally press my face against your legs?” He asked.

“Whats wrong with my legs?” Riley challenged.

“Nothing! There’s nothing wrong with your, uh..”

“Legs?”

“Yeah, your legs are… fine.”

“My legs are fine?” Riley questioned.

There was a moment of silence.

“How about I just give you the boost,” Farkle suggested, breaking the growing tension.

Riley nodded, and stepped onto his hands. Farkle pushed her up as high as he could; Riley reached out and managed to grab the handle of the box.

“Farkle, stand still!” Riley called down.

“I am! You’re the one wobbling around!” Farkle replied.

“Then hold me still! Otherwise I’m going to drop the box!”

“You’re standing on my hands! I’d have to drop you first to hold you, and you know how terrible I am at catching!”

“Okay, then watch your head!”

“My head?” Farkle asked in confusion.

His question was answered almost immediately, as Riley tipped the box over and a bunch of large hardback books cascaded down.

"Okay, you can lower me down now,” Riley said.

“I can’t, you’re too wobbly. I’ll drop you!”

“Farkle, you gotta put me down at some point,” Riley told him, trying not to laugh.

“Okay,” he muttered, as he quickly took his hands out from underneath her feet, and caught her around the waist as she fell.

They were at eye level now; Riley’s hands on Farkle shoulders. She smiled at him, “You caught me.”

“Yeah,” he smiled back, looking into her eyes, “I did.”

They were looking at each other now; really looking, in a way that they could only look at one other. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable, intimate; neither of them could describe what they were feeling right now, but they did know it was good, right, and that no one else could make them feel this way.

Riley’s eyes flicked down from Farkle’s, to his lips.

They were _so_ close.

Riley could feel her heart rate quickening and her face growing warm.

She cleared her throat loudly, and Farkle put her down quickly; going red himself and looking away.

Riley straightened out her dress, not looking at Farkle.

He picked up one of the books and read put the title, “John Adams High School Yearbook, 1995-1996?” He looked questioningly at Riley, “You called me over here to look through your parents’ old yearbooks?”

“ _Our_ parents’ old yearbooks,” Riley corrected. “I thought it’d be fun,” she added, as she sat down, pulling Farkle with her by the wrist.

She picked up one at random and flicked through the pages, “Check it out, this was their tenth grade year book, look,” Riley said showing him the page that had every tenth grader’s photo. It was in name order not class order, so Lawrence, Matthews, and Minkus were all right next to each other.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe they were all our age at some point,” Farkle said, taking the book from Riley.

“I know, it’s weird, right?” She agreed.

“Hey, your mom looks—” he started, pointing at her picture, but Riley cut him off.

“Farkle just, just stop right there.”

“You can say something about my dad, if you like,” Farkle shrugged playfully.

Riley mocked-squinted at the photo. “He looks like you, but blond.”

“He has a bowl cut!” Farkle protested.

“I said what I said.” Riley smiled cheekily. “Actually you know what,” she pointed at a photo of his mother, Jennifer Basset, “you look like her, but with brown hair.”

“Yeah, well, you look like your dad, but more… Topanga-ish,” Farkle replied.

“And is that a bad thing?”

She was challenging him.

He loved it when she did that.

Farkle didn’t respond—Riley knew she’d won this time—instead he flicked through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. “My dad was voted most likely to be ‘smrat’. They misspelled ‘smart’, were they trying to be ironic?”

“Considering my mom wasn’t editor that year, they probably weren’t.” Riley laughed.

“And your parents were voted Cutest Couple,”

“Yeah,” Riley commented, smiling at their photo, “they always were, even in eighth grade, before they got together.”

“They were voted Cutest Couple, in eighth grade, before they were together?” Farkle asked in disbelief. “Sounds like some people we know..”

Riley gasped, “Oh my god, wait till I tell Maya!”

“She’ll flip,” Farkle laughed, looking for the eighth grade yearbook.

“It’s not in there,” Riley told him, as he picked up the yearbook and searched it, “Mom was the editor and told them to take it out.”

“She definitely made a better editor than us then.”

“But look at their yearbook quotes, they had the same one,” Riley took the book from Farkle and found the page, “You are you,” she read, “and I am I. You do your thing, and I do my thing, and if we end up together, it’s beautiful.” She looked up to find Farkle looking back at her, in that way that made her stomach do back flips.

She smiled softly, “They didn’t know if they would get together back then, but they knew if they did, it’d be beautiful.”

Farkle was still looking at her, and she was looking right back at him, her heart beating fast.

He lent forward, cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her. So tenderly, so softly, so gently, and just so, _so perfectly_ , because he was Farkle and she was Riley. She kissed him back, harder, more passionate— _because god dammit why hadn’t they kissed sooner_ —so that by the time they broke apart, their breathing was heavy.

“It will be beautiful,” Farkle said, his hand still on Riley’s cheek, and looking directly into her eyes.

Riley lent forward and kissed him again, their lips just brushing, their noses just touching; she pressed her forehead to Farkle’s, caressing his cheek, “It already is.”

 

 


End file.
